


small talk

by brandflakeeee



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, aka i just needed to get some feelings out and this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-11-02 01:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20578724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandflakeeee/pseuds/brandflakeeee
Summary: A train ride and a conversation.Alternatively, the start to a new chapter for our favorite gods.





	small talk

Winter was late. 

The summer had dragged on in its typical fashion, stupidly hot and humidity that left you exhausted before noon. Rains brought slightly cooler days, but most were sweltering, blistering hot; most of the farmers and field hands wore permanent tans and sunburns beneath wide brimmed hats and rolled up sleeves. By late August the winds had still not shifted to signal the seasons change but no one dared speak up, not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

In the end, it was the second week of September before the train whistle called and the world let out a collective breath that it had held tight. A crisp, cooler breeze settled in the air the morning the train called, the leaves already turning. Autumn came on fast. 

Persephone worried. 

It wasn't like her husband to be  _ late _ . Of all the years since the beginning of their marriage he had never once been late. Early, sure. Too early. But never,  _ never _ late. It ate away at her as she packed her things - which was easier than usual. She'd packed her bags three weeks ago so she'd be prepared when that train came calling. Only thing to do was add a few more jars of her momma's marmalade they'd canned together a few days ago. Her husband's favorite, as if their marriage might be repaired with sticky preserves. If only. Persephone could manage that, slathering jelly between the cracks between him and her. 

No, those cracks needed filled with words. They'd flung a whole hell of a lot of them at each other in years past, each year digging deeper and deeper into their pits. Now that it came time to filling the dirt back in, she wasn't so sure how to do it. Years of miscommunication couldn't be magically made better by one decent conversation. If they could even manage that. He'd promised to try, though. She had, too. Though she'd be surprised if those promises held up in the six months they'd been apart. No letters, no notes, nothing. As if nothing had changed. 

That's what worried her most. 

Maybe he'd given up on her shit, after putting up with it for so long. Decided she wasn't worth the trouble and had just sent Hermes up on the train with a contract for divorce. Her chest seized at the thought; much as they fought, she still clung to that last shred of love between them. The one that had bloomed bright red in his hands under the ground, after the poet and the songbird. She would deserve it, the wry and bitter part of her felt. She'd run him through hell and back. He wasn't innocent either, but Persephone knew she damn well could've tried harder. She will, if given the chance. 

She loved her man. Still loved him. She had always put their love before anything, because it made her feel untouchable. To him, their love came second to a kingdom of dust and ash. She almost couldn't remember her life before him; it made her uneasy to picture life going forward without his constant presence. 

What bitter, old fools they'd become. 

Her momma pressed a kiss to her cheek on the porch, hugging her fiercely as she always did. Already the winds were shifting, ghosting over the fields with a warning of frosts to come. Persephone set out along the path with her bag over one arm, coat around her shoulders. Wasn't a long walk to the platform, and she could see the tracks. In the distance the train gave another shrill whistle - a warning or an omen? She knew the damn thing was coming. Even if it was late, which made her all the more curious to board. Would he be there, all dark sunglasses and leather coat? Or would it be another trip down spent alone with the bar?

Well, probably just alone. She was trying to curb her drinking habits, furious as they were. Her part of  _ trying _ .

As always, the platform was empty. Sometimes a lost soul or two would be taking shelter among the overhangs, but not that day. Persephone climbed the steps and parked herself on the bench to wait, alone. Tried to imagine what it would be like to try again. To find their love. Bitter and curdled as it had turned, it was still there. Waiting. Far more patient than she was. 

How long had she spent trying to convince her husband she loved him? Those six months apart weren't just hard on him. She felt constantly torn between them. Summer and winter. Daughter and wife. She spent half the year trying to please her momma and the other half trying to please her husband and they were all suffering for it. Seasons had to come and go. She had to come and go. It had been the only way in the beginning and now it would be the only way until the end of time. As long as he was king, as long as she was his wife. 

The six months had been easier to deal with in the beginning. Everything had been easier. She blamed the Fates and their whispers for turning her husband, filling his head with the madness to build,  _ build,  _ ** _build,_ ** all for her to keep her love. Gods above she can't even remember how their fighting got started. Just one winter there was suddenly a whole city with mines and factories and she'd cried in fits of rage. Glasses had been shattered that night. Hearts, too. Artificial lights and gemstone flowers couldn’t take the place of the thriving  _ life _ of the surface, and they’d convinced him of it anyway. The wall - had it been to keep her in? Or to keep the dead in? Or keep something as simple as a  _ song _ out of the kingdom?

Damned Fates. Damn their songs and whispers and doubts. Hades was strong, but she knew of no one who could ignore those Fates once they sunk in their claws to your flesh, man or god. Vultures, the three of them. Twisting the world. Twisting hearts. Ruining marriages. Poet and songbird had been no different to she and Hades. Not in the end. 

Would he have turned around, had their places been swapped? Her gut churned; she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, but the question burned on her tongue on all the same. Those doubts that had raised a city in her absence would surely make him turn, wouldn’t it? IF two mortals couldn’t make it, what chance did their love have? The Fates had sang those doubts in the back of her lover’s mind until he’d built a city hotter than fire and mined her diamonds until the noise was deafening. Is he late now because he’d gotten dragged into building up more foundries? Or, as she’d thought before, had he simply given up on her? Would Hermes be handing her a stack of divorce papers when he stepped off that train and she’d be free?

Persephone wasn’t sure she  _ wanted _ to be free. Not that free.

The whistle blew high and loud in the distance, cutting through the silence. It was still a long few minutes before she saw it, billowing steam and slowing the closer it grew to the platform until it came full stop with a great hiss of noise and smoke and heat. She stood, scanning the windows for any sign of Hades before the door opened. Hermes hopped off first in his usual manner, giving her a mock bow and a crooked grin while she clutched her straw bag.

Then there was her man, wearing those stupid sunglasses and coat over his pinstripes and she felt the world right itself for a moment. So he hadn’t given up on her. Not yet. As he stepped off the train, they both stood rooted to their place for a long while. 

“You’re late.” Persephone managed quietly.

“I still missed you.” He rumbled his reply.

Things had clearly changed. He offered his hand out to her and she took it. They boarded the train and she stowed her bag away, her coat with it. The train was warm enough, it’s lavish interior soft and dimly lit. Their private car reflected both of their tastes, right down to the bar cart along a part of the wall. She itched to reach for it, but instead sat down on the cushioned bench closest to the window. Hades seemed to falter, unsure of himself and something wry twisted in her gut. Was this how it would be all winter, then? Dancing around each other like walking on eggshells, uncertain how to interact since their hurried promises.

“Sit. We should talk.” 

To her surprise, he did. The train shifted and then they were off, picking up speed down the track. Persephone watched as the landscape began to blur by in a mess of color, but she snagged the shade and drew it down across the window. Only then did Hades remove his glasses, tucking them into his jacket pocket. She could feel the tension between them, heavy and suffocating. Suddenly with him sitting across from her, she didn’t know what to say. Every word in her brain simply flew out the damn window and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. Her fingers twitched, unable to sit still - a habit she had picked up in her sudden cut-back of alcohol. Withdrawl, her momma had called it. Hell, it should have been called. 

Again, to her surprise, it was her king of the mine that spoke first.

“The wall’s comin’ down, Seph.”

It took her a moment to fully unpack  _ that _ . Not only the use of a nickname she hadn’t heard in years but the content of the statement. Surely not. Half a century of work, coming down? 

“It won’t be quick or soon, but - worked all summer to make sure it’d happen. Before you know it.” He continued in that gravelly, rumbling tone. He didn’t look at her, nothing but a fleeting glance here or there. As if he was uncertain. A new look on him, one Persephone didn’t mind seeing. In those fleeting glances where he met her gaze for a fraction of a second she could see something in those eyes. Usually they were hard, black as coal and sharp as steel. There was something soft this time, soft and  _ pleading _ . She wondered how hard it was for him to admit it. To tell her, to act upon it. 

That little carnation of hope wedged somewhere in her throat, threatening to suffocate her then and there. She could thank him, but she doesn’t. Can’t. Not until she sees it with her own eyes.

“I haven’t had a drink in three months. Not a drop.” She said instead, the fidgeting of her fingers unrelenting. So used to having a flask or a glass to clutch to. It’s hard for her to talk about it, too. She as attached to her drink as he was his wall. There had never been any answers though, at the bottom of bottles or at the top of walls. 

Hades opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and snapped it shut again. Those brows furrowed together, considering before her man leaned forward and reached for her fidgeting hands. They stilled immediately, soft brown flesh of her palms catching on the callouses on the pads of his fingers. Fresh. If she’d been drinking something, she would have choked. 

He’d been helping tear down the wall himself. There’s no reason for him to have the callouses otherwise. Those soft hands so used to office work and signing contracts cracked open and aching with use against stone and wood and rock. Persephone stared, and her voice was gone again, her throat dry. She squeezed his fingers though, and didn’t pull away - a step forward in and of itself. 

“I’d like to start tearin’ down other walls.” He said so quietly into the silence between them she nearly missed it. He wasn’t looking at her again. “Between us, I mean. If you think we can. If you still want me around.”

It’s the most vulnerable she’d seen him in decades, save for the glimpse of the man she’d gotten when the poet had sang. She wanted to ask if he’d spent all summer like that - then decided against it, determined not to ruin the moment. Least for another moment. Her mighty king, uncertain and hesitant like the man offering his heart to a woman in her momma’s garden. This was closer to the man she’d married, the man she’d given her love to and run away with into the depths of the earth. The man who had given her half his kingdom and all his heart.

She tried to figure out how best to convey her response.  _ Yes _ seemed not right,  _ of course _ was too formal. Gods above, she really had forgotten how to talk to him. Had the communication dissolved between them so fiercely? She swallowed back the remark on the tip of her tongue, almost instinctively prepped.

“I want you around.” She managed before the silence stretched too long and he assumed otherwise. That was the problem too. Assuming things in the gaps of words that weren’t there. Something in his eyes flickered again. Hope? She wasn’t sitting close enough to tell, but his hands squeezing back against her own was a reassuring gesture. She decided to press on. If he was going to stumble over his words, so would she. They’d learn. Together. 

“I’ve always wanted you around, Hades. But as  _ you _ . Not as king or foreman or anything else. I want my husband back and I - I ain’t seen him in so long. I worried he wasn’t in there anymore.”

“He is.” Hades rumbled. “Just . . . blinded.”

“Can I have my man back? The one who kept me warm all on his own without foundries or power grids? I know I ain’t been a good wife these past many years, and I wanna try again. But I can’t, on my own.”

Hades rubbed those calloused hands across her own again, before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her knuckles. Hesitant. Soft. It mirrored one he’d given six months ago, just before she’d left for springtime again. 

_ And what about us? Are we gonna try again? _

_ It’s almost spring. We’ll try again next fall. _

"I've been trying to find that man, too. He's here, somewhere. Just needs help finding his way out. Shown the way." He rumbled. Something caught in her throat. Whether it was a conscious use of the words or not, perhaps Orpheus' song had gone further than she'd realised. She swallowed thickly, the glimmer of a smile on her lips before she could stop it. Oh, her mighty man. Vulnerable as hell when he let himself be, those thick steel walls of emotionless feelings fading away for a moment. The wall in town wasn't the only one with cracks in it.

Persephone felt the air shift, the hair on the back of her arms and the nape of her neck rose on end as the train passed from the mortal realm to the underworld. The landscape outside the windows grew darker, blurring together in a mess of earthen colors until shadow overtook them entirely. She looked back at Hades in the dim lighting of the train car; he was still looking at her, half his face shadowed. But those eyes shone, like two bright diamonds in the midst of a mine.

"I wanna try." She whispered into the silence, shattering it again. "Us. I - our love made the world turn, lover. I wanna feel that again. But we gotta learn to talk to each other. I don't wanna end up back here again."

Because in truth, Persephone had been terrified of losing him. They'd been close to that, she'd felt it. One fight away from calling it quits before the poet had dragged the veil from both their eyes. It had hurt, but it had been needed. Now was the hard part - fixing things up again. 

Hades shifted, those lips pressed into a thin line. 

"I love you." He said simply, but with enough hidden meaning behind it that it made her heart leap into the back of her throat. "Ain't always been good at showin' it. Not in the way I mean. Figured it'd be best just to say it from now on. Until we - we find our rhythm again."

And that  _ carnation _ . She hadn't realised it, but the soft red petals were blooming between their joined hands, curling around their fingers. She couldn't tell which one of them had done it, but it was Hades who removed it from their palms and studied it a moment, before he gently reached over and tucked it behind her ear. His touch lingered at her face, thumb brushing along her cheek. She didn't pull away, lips parted in some silent word she couldn't give voice to. Her eyes burned, hands in her lap now trembling (going cold turkey off the liquor had not been the brightest idea). 

"I love you. Never stopped." She managed after a beat, voice almost far too loud in the silence. Hades' lips curled at the edges, a rare smile that looked far better on him than those terrible, permanent frowns he seemed to wear. 

"I know." 

_ The girl means nothing to me.  _

_ I know. _

"How long?" He asked then, as the train began it's slow descent. They'd be arriving soon, and Persephone looked forward to it for the first time in decades. Almost eager to see the changes, the ones for the better he had promised. 

"Til the end of time." She answered, reaching up to cover his hand against her face. Those calloused fingers brushed against the skin of her cheek, warm and steady. 

He looked uncertain again, questioning, and Persephone answered his silent question with a kiss. Soft, but unyielding and filled with every inch of emotion she could put behind those fleeting few moments. When she drew away he half followed, breathing hard and looking mildly unsteady. Those butterflies in her stomach and chest came to life - how long had it been since she'd felt his lips against her own, instead of half hearted goodbyes to her cheek or hand?

When she leaned forward to do it again, far more certain in the action, his hand slid from her face to her hair - but never anything  _ possessive.  _ Giving her an out, she realised. She only kissed him harder at that, letting him know that she did not want a way out. Together, they had promised. Trying. This was her reminding him of that. Whether he got the picture or not was another story, but his embrace seemed far more assured and confident. Still, he left her in control and Persephone pressed her forehead against his for a moment when she felt the need to breathe. Her nose brushing his, she closed her eyes for a long moment. 

"I missed ya." She murmured. She heard and felt him chuckle quietly. 

"Come on. I'll show you what we've been workin' on."

The train had stopped, and she hadn't noticed. He stood, offering a hand to her. She slid her own into his again, finding comfort in the simple gesture. They stepped off the train together onto the platform and she took a breath. 

It didn't choke her, and the air was not as hot. Things were moving back into rhythm. Slowly, but surely. 

"Give me the grand tour, then."

Things would not be resolved immediately, their issues disappearing in one day. It would take probably a few winters to find their proper rhythm again, but this, at the very least, was a damn good start.


End file.
